Rain
by Firebirdie
Summary: Scenes from Vette's first day on Dromund Kaas.


**A/N: **Previously uploaded to my AO3; part of the Structural Integrity 'verse along with Foundations, Sacrifice, and No Compromise.

Enjoy.

**Rain**

**o.O.o**

**I. arrival**

The air is heavy and thick and clammy as they step out of the spaceport. Lightning flickers and twitches in the clouds. The rain is a constant, sullen drizzle, dribbling from the dark leaves of the jungle canopy.

"Bet you just rake in the tourism money," Vette mutters. She shakes her head hard, but the itch doesn't go away. Dromund Kaas is a world full of shadows, and they crawl and burrow through her brain like maggots in rotting meat. What a fun place to run an Empire out of. Oh, wait—that'd actually explain a lot.

"There's quite the mud bath industry, actually," Evren says absently. "In case ordinary dark side corruption doesn't leave you with a satisfyingly corpselike complexion."

Vette looks at him. He blinks, innocent. She bites back a smile and says, "Where did you get that sense of humor, again? 'Cause that was terrible."

"You wound me," he says with a pout, squelching onward through the muck.

"So, uh, you grew up here?"

"Well, Kaas City, yes. Slightly less hazardous for pedestrians than the jungle."

"Slightly?"

"Very slightly."

**o.O.o**

**II. nexus room**

"Well, I'm not in prison or collared, and it's sort of miserable weather, so I guess we should . . . uh, what happens now?"

"That is entirely up to you," says Evren. "If you want passage off Dromund Kaas, I will arrange it."

Vette quirks an eyebrow at him. "You trying to get rid of me?" she says, although part of her is screaming _run, run like hell, get as far away from this shithole of a planet as you possibly can, don't ask questions and don't stop for anything, just RUN—_

"I—no, not at all. But it's your choice whether you stay or go. I appreciate the help you've given me, but it was under duress, and you are under no obligation to remain here."

Vette shakes her head. "Not gonna lie, the prospect of sticking around for more fun with Darth Baras and his office torture chair is not all that appealing."

"No argument here," Evren mutters.

"So why not leave? You hate this, I can tell. You could just hop on a shuttle and be out of here forever."

"And I would then be hunted down and dragged back, possibly for re-education but far more probably for execution." Evren shrugs. "You, on the other hand . . . Baras would either assume I killed you or not notice your absence at all. You could be halfway across the galaxy within days, and never need worry about pursuit."

And that's the real kicker, isn't it? She could escape right now. Get out of the Dromund system, find the gang again, go back to liberating artifacts.

_Why_ is she hesitating to take his offer?

. . . Aw, hells. She actually likes him. Evren might be human and he might be Sith, but he's funny and weirdly honorable and _nice_ and he is going to get himself killed.

"I can leave whenever I want?" Vette says slowly.

"Yes . . ."

It's not forever. She just wants to see what happens next. She can leave. She can always, always leave. The microsecond that starts to change, she's out. Vette knocks back the rest of her drink, sets the glass down on the table with a sharp _clack_, and says, "Then it looks like you're stuck with me for a while, Ev."

He blinks. Then his whole face lights up in a brief, brilliant grin. "You are full of surprises."

"It's a talent. So! What next, your darkful lordness?"

Evren raises his glass to her. "You and me. Working together. Taking on the galaxy. What do you think?"

Vette rolls her eyes. "All right, weirdo. I watch your six, you watch mine. Deal?"

"Deal."

**o.O.o**

**III. taxi**

"So, uh, where are we staying?"

"As Baras's apprentice, I technically have quarters at the Citadel, but . . . well. They're at the Citadel," Evren says, grimacing. "Or we could rent an ap—"

"Option number two, please," Vette says brightly, hopping into the cab.

**o.O.o**

**IV. night**

Vette jerks awake as blue-white light sears through the room and the entire building trembles with the force of the thunder. She sits up slowly, muttering a curse that turns into a yawn. She glances at her chrono. 03:36. Great. Just great.

There's a small noise from the kitchenette; she peers over the back of the couch and squints against the lone, soft light over the stove. She raises her eyebrows. Evren's perched on the countertop, hunched over a mug of something or other. He looks . . . smaller, without armor to bulk up his silhouette. Ordinary.

He glances in her direction. "Try to go back to sleep," he says quietly.

Another flash of lightning, further away this time. The thunder-rumble is lower and longer, a growl that takes a few seconds to fade. Vette sighs and pushes the blankets aside as she levers herself into a sitting position and scrubs at her eyes. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen." Standing, Vette takes a moment to stretch, vertebrae popping. She cracks her neck and turns to face him. "You sleep at all?"

Evren shakes his head. "You know, I actually missed this planet while I was on Korriban. I'm a bit peeved at myself for wasting so much nostalgia on it."

"You getting that gross squirmy feeling, or is that just me?"

"It's Dromund Kaas. Even Force-blind individuals can feel that there is something very dark here." He slides off the counter and waves his mug vaguely. "Caf? Tea?"

"Gonna be a long day," Vette sighs. "Let's start the caffeination process."

So she winds up sitting in a dimly-lit kitchen in a tiny apartment on the Imperial capital world, drinking sweet black caf made to order by a Sith apprentice in pajamas.

**o.O.o**

_end_


End file.
